Werewolves, Vampires, and Hunters
by Inuyashagirl7692
Summary: Ten years after graduating from Vampire Hunters Academy, a new threat decides to target a pair of retired hunters and their friends. This will lead to change. A change that will lead to power, but at a terrible price. Based on SalaciousCrumb's "Hetalia School For Vampire Hunters".
1. No Rest

They were happy together. Sure, only ten years had passed since Lovino, Antonio, and Gilbert had been turned into vampires, and while not much may have changed in ten years, Feliciano knew that one day they would watch them all age and die.

As morbid as that sounded.

Already, the oldest brother looked like the younger, and there would come a day when he looked like Feliciano's son, and then, his grandson. It was a daunting thought- that his lover's brother and his own brother would one day watch them die and continue on without them into eternity was not something that he liked to think about at all, actually, but it hung over him like a cloud sometimes, a cloud hidden behind the smiles and the laughter. So, he pushed it away. Sweeping it under the rug, just as one would dust they wanted to pretend didn't exist. It just so happened that he was pushing these very thoughts away as he made pasta for his lover, his brother, his lover's brother, his brother's lover, a pervert, an American, and the American's rather grumpy lover.

Of course, he was making spaghetti. It was his specialty and delicious and easy to make, so why on earth would he make anything else for their weekly get-togethers?

"Hey, Feliciano," his brother's voice called out to him through the closed door to the kitchen, "you aren't making spaghetti again, are you?"

Heat flared in Feliciano's veins, as his brother's dismayed tone seemed to suggest that there was such a thing as _too much spaghetti_. "Ah, it's a surprise, Lovi. And it's almost done."

From outside the door, he heard his brother sigh. "It's spaghetti. Of fucking course it is." Instead of replying, Feliciano held his tongue. After all, being a bit… abrasive had always been a part of his brother's personality. If Antonio could put up with it, then so could he. Then again, Antonio had a pretty good incentive for putting up with his brother's less pleasant quirks. Even after ten years of being together, their love and nighttime activities were still going strong, after all.

A loud crack pulled his head out of the delicious smell of pasta and his thoughts. The wooden shutters he'd had Ludwig build around their windows had been slammed against the surrounding wall by the wind, he was certain, and nothing else, but there was a sense of unease that grew when he saw just how far open the window was. Had it always been that wide?

Outside, he could see a storm brewing. Dark clouds swirled and turned in the sky, like dirt kicked up at the bottom of a pond. Something felt wrong.

He called out. "Lovino? Ludwig?" No answer. In fact, all sound outside the kitchen had stopped.

"They can't hear you, you know. No one can." Whirling around, Feliciano caught sight of a young boy crouching on his windowsill. Black hair fell in lazy curls around the crown of his head, his skin was paler than bleached bone, and his clothes, ragged and worn as they were, seemed about a century out of date. It was a blue suit piece. Or rather, it had been blue once. And, if all of that weren't enough to send the hairs on the back of Feliciano's neck heading for the door, than the predatory glint in his dark eyes and the sharp shine of pointed canines under his curled, thin lips would be have done it.

If Feliciano brain hadn't frozen at what all his past vampire hunting training had trained him to recognize as a vampire, then it was likely only due to said training. As the facts stood, only his body was frozen, feet planted to the floor as though they had grown roots, but his thoughts raced.

Partly in a bid to stall for time, and partly due to his own nervousness, he asked questions in quick succession, "Who are you? What are you doing here? What do you want with me? What have you done to my friends?"

The vampire's smile widened as its head tilted. Every motion happened too fast for Feliciano to process, so it appeared as though the creature's head had merely teleported to the right. The fast, jerky movements gave it an almost insect-like quality, which, when mixed with the ink black eyes and predatory posture, merely made his presence all the more threatening.

It spoke. "If you live to see the next sunrise, I may tell you my name, but I see no reason to waste breath on a corpse. As for what I want with you and why your friends aren't recklessly rushing in to save you like the fools they are, well, I believe you'll find that those two answers are related." With what looked like a neckbreakingly fast nod towards its right, it forced Feliciano to see a intricate magic circle, something that looked as though it had been painted on his wall with blood so fresh it was still dripping.

It was a concealment field. No sound could pass outside one. No one could enter one. Even thinking about something or someone inside a concealment field was difficult. No help was coming. Not this time.

Throat dry, Feliciano choked, "I thought vampires couldn't use magic." As the creature's face darkened, he focused on restoring his senses, preferably his ability to move his arms and feet. First, control the fear. Second, avoid the vampire's eyes. Third, dispel any lingering magic from his thoughts. Fourth. Move.

Just as a plan began to form in his mind, the vampire brought a palm sized vial out from his pocket and, in a rare moment of solemnity, said, "You'd be surprised what magic and pain can do to you. It can make you achieve the impossible. It can turn you into a monster." For an instant, Feliciano pitied the creature before him, but then the vampire's feature's sharpened once more, as he held the ruby red vial and purred, the melody of his voice clawing its ways into Feliciano's ears like a thousand needles dipped in ecstasy, "It can make you want to turn others into monsters, too."

Having finally gathered enough strength of will, Feliciano gripped the boiling pot of spaghetti next to him, tossing it at the concealment field's design as one would toss a bucket of water. It left his hands screaming in agony, but not even that pain would have compared to seeing his plan fail. The vampire stopped the sauce from disrupting the field's magic by shielding it with its body.

However, Feliciano didn't see his plan fail. The second the pot left his hands, he'd spun around, hightailing it for the door and what he could only pray was safety. He was pinned to the floor, however, before his fingers could do more than brush the door, scream cut off by the spindly fingers crushing his throat.

There was an ear shattering roar, a snarl, and then the sound of a stopper being pulled from a vial. Feliciano fought to close his mouth, but his brain was oxygen starved. He was gasping and he couldn't stop because the fingers were only giving him enough air to stay conscious, not nearly enough for clear thought, let alone willful, defiant resistance. The warm, sticky liquid fell from the vial, falling into his mouth until it felt like he was drowning. Feliciano tried to spit it out, but it was cloying. It stuck to his tongue, the roof of his mouth, his throat. And then the boy- the vampire- the creature pressed his body closer, long fingers loosening their chokehold on his throat so he could cover Felciano's mouth with his other hand.

Fireworks exploded behind his eyes. Black spots bloomed and spread like dying flowers, but he refused to swallow. He couldn't.

So, the vampire, with his young, vulpine face, suddenly removed the pressure from his throat, suddenly removed the hand from his mouth, and sealed his lips with his own. Before Feliciano could register anything more than surprise, there was a sharp pain in his mouth, followed by a pleasure so bone deep his body sang with it, melted in it. Iron and copper and syrupy corruption traveled down his throat. His skin absorbed it and his lungs, ignoring everything else, gulped at the air greedily.

A battle had been lost.

In that moment, as he locked eyes with the boyish face above him, a face like that of an angel -or a demon - all Feliciano could think about was how cold he felt. If it were Ludwig with him, and not a demon with a child's face, he wouldn't have felt so cold.

Those were his last thoughts before the convulsions started. After that, everything was colored in words of pain.

* * *

"Che, what's taking my foolish fratello so long?" Lovino asked. Being a vampire may have granted him the super model good looks of your average Italian Abercrombie & Fitch poster boy, plus eternal youth, but it really hadn't done a thing for his maturity. At least, that was what he wanted people to think. When he wanted to act his age, he found that he could, but he quickly found that it wasn't much fun. And also that the more he acted like a mature adult, the more he was expected to act one.

Arthur snorted. "Honestly, didn't anyone teach you about manners? It's rude to rush the cook."

Before Lovino could form a properly biting response, Ludwig rose from the table with his dog pacing anxiously by his heels. "Maybe I'll go check on him, make sure he's all right," Ludwig said. Then he trailed off and sat down.

Confused, Gilbert leaned a little towards his brother and asked, his voice low, suspicion growing behind his crimson eyes, "Weren't you going to go check on Feliciano?"

Ludwig blinked. "Why would I do that that? I'm sure he's all right. " The words were dreamy, disjointed. Gilbert, Francis, Antonio, and Lovino all leapt to their feet, the sudden motion startling the humans at the table out of whatever fog was clouding their thoughts. Lovino called his brother's name, made for the door, and found himself walking past it.

"What?!" He tried again. And walked past it. Again.

"It's a concealment field," Antonio said. "If we approach it directly, we'll just end up walking past it."

"How long?" Lovino demanded of the others, and of himself. "How long has my brother been trapped in there while we sat on our asses, not five feet away from him?"

Ignoring him, Alfred cut his arm with a knife, much to Arthur's horror. "Alfred! What on earth are you-"

Alfred cut him off with a look, then drew the symbol for fire on his palm. He tried to raise his palm in the general direction of the door without actually thinking about it, since it was easier to destroy the area beside a concealment field than it was to take on the field directly. "Just a suggestion" he said as magic began to gather in his palm and sweat began to bead on his forehead, "But you might not want to be anywhere near that door right now. Unless being fried to a crisp is a new fetish of yours, Francis."

"Not at the moment, mon ami." Francis moved away coolly, but he did move, and then Alfred unleashed enough fire to burn away the wall surrounding the field and put seriously pressure on the field itself. Focusing on the fire, Alfred imagined the sheer force of it coming up against a sheet of glass. The glass warped and stretched, but it didn't break.

"Arthur," Alfred grunted, his hands growing heavy and tired, "the second I stop the fire, I need you to cool down the field. Fast."

Arthur nodded, green eyes narrowed with resolution. The wind rustled, turned, rolled as if being woken, and then, all at once, it charged the door. It roared and screamed and pushed against as the flames died, and then Gilbert threw a door, shattering the field and cracking the design itself. They rushed into the kitchen, only to find a scene that had the same effect on them that a fall through thin ice on a cold winter's day might have on others.

The window's shutters banged against the wall. There was a symbol on the wall, a symbol with a crack running through it, written in blood. The air was hot, humid. Thick spaghetti sauce coated the walls and the floors and a lone pot rolled on the floor. There was no attacker. Nothing to fight. No one to save. The time for saving had long passed. There was only a man on the floor, convulsing so hard his head struck the tile floor and blood dribbled from his lips. His chest rose, lungs filling with air, so he could stab the air with his screams.

Ludwig rushed to his side, gathered his frail and contorted body in his arms like a fitful child, and ran from the kitchen. Gilbert and Francis rushed outside to see if they could catch the intruder, Lovino sprinted after Ludwig with Antonio on his heels, and Arthur and Alfred made sure their blessed pistols were cocked and loaded with the cross engraved bullets they had recently procured from the academy.

Even as they searched, they knew that whoever had attacked Feliciano would be long gone, and all the while, always present, were his screams.

He screamed until his throat bled and his body broke.

And the smothering silence that followed was deafening.

* * *

**A/N: Review if you want me to continue. If you're confused, read SalaciousCrumb's "Hetalia School For Vampire Hunters" This is kind of like a pseudo-sequel/drabble for that. **

**Also, some people might think Italy is out of character, because he's putting up a fight against a vampire, but, in the story, one of his greatest fears is being changed into someone or something who doesn't love Ludwig. He'd rather die than have that happen. So, in my opinion, him not laying down and just letting that vampire attack him is absolutely in character.**


	2. e vissero felici e contenti

**A/N: Thanks for the review and the follows^^ I don't plan on this being a very long story, but it's nice to know that there are people who enjoy it. That said, this is probably the chapter that earned me my T rating, so 'beware ye who enter here'.**

**BW: Your review made me laugh. I think Gil and Ludwig's Grandpa is dead, but I'll have to reread the ending of SalaciousCrumb's story to be sure. However, he will be mentioned, since the ritual he used and and the experiments he conducted are going to be plot points. Also, the wolf Heracles saved will come up next chapter.**

**Edit: Feliciano's grandpa is called Roma, Ludwig's is Wolfram (dead?), and the restaurant is "La Luna Perfetta", it would seem. Good to know. I had a feeling there would be something about Ludwig's Grandpa's name that just screamed, "I MADE WEREWOLVES!"**

**In other news, *whispers* I forgot Canada.**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

It takes thought to build an identity, it takes an identity to have a name, and it takes a name to have a sense of self. A difference between you and the air you breathe.

_In the darkness of Feliciano's mind, the only thing he knew was pain. He was hardly a person, hardly a creature. He was a mass of burning nerves. There were needles in every cell, fire burned and blacked the skin on his face, until it peeled and curled, revealing bone. A harsh, artic wind froze the skin at his back, confusing his senses. It felt like someone was stripping the skin from his bones with a rake, but even wishing for the pain to end would take more presence of mind then he had left, so he screamed without even the simplest knowledge of why he did it or that it was done. He didn't hear screams, feel wind, see fire. He didn't feel his blood boil as it reached the front half of his body, nor did he feel it freeze into jagged glass as it reached his back. He honed in on one sensation while his brain struggled to shut off, while his body begged to die._

* * *

For a moment, Ludwig was grateful when he stilled. He'd seen the transformation happen to his brother, and he'd hoped that the change would finally begin, that the pain would be over, but then Feliciano's body bucked and spasmed, his lips emitting a choking sound. Black blood bubbled from between his teeth, dribbling down his chin in streams.

* * *

"Do you think he'll be a pureblood or a halfblood?" Gilbert asked Francis with forced nonchalance.

They hadn't found the vampire's scent, which would have been their only good lead, so they decided that once Feliciano stabilized, they'd head over to the Vampire Hunter's School For Witchcraft and Wizardry, and tell Roma that his sweet, innocent grandson, who never wanted to hurt a fly, and only wanted to make delicious Italian food at his restaurant, was forcefully turned into a creature of the undead. Then they'd just sit back and watch Roma raze the Earth until he found the sneaky little leech that dared harm a hair on his progeny.

"It doesn't really matter" Francis shrugged, shifting some his golden locks away from his face as he did. "Whatever he becomes, he'll be taken care of. If he becomes a halfblood, he has three purebloods he can feed on." Gilbert was fairly certain that his brother would not tolerate seeing his husband feed on anyone except Lovino… and maybe himself.

If it was an emergency.

Like the world would explode if Feliciano didn't feed right that second. But, if it were Francis he had to feed on…

Gilbert had a sudden image of his brother and Feliciano hopping into a rocket, flying away as the world exploded behind them.

He struggled to smother a chuckle with the palm of his hand, but Mr. French Super Model still raised a brow archly at him.

Unperturbed, Francis continued, "And if he's a pureblood, then he'll have the best vampire ( and former vampire) teachers a fresh, beautiful flower such as himself could ask for."

Their good natured chatter was cut short, once they heard the despairing howl of a werewolf slice the air.

It shouldn't have been possible for Gilbert to look any more bloodless then he already did, but he managed somehow, as croaked, "That was Ludwig."

They were sprinting back to the house before another second past, leaving spiraling clouds of dust and dirt in their wake.

* * *

"_Dio! Uccidimi! Per favore!"_

Lovino heard the crack, like a branch breaking under heavy snowfall, before he stepped into the room, before Antonio trailed in after him, before the ground nearly rushed up to meet him.

* * *

After Feliciano began chewing through his tongue, Ludwig had tried prying his mouth open and shoving his hand between his teeth. When he felt canines, sharper than razor blades, begin to pinch and rip and tear into his skin, he'd howled in agony, but he hadn't removed his hand. It didn't matter if he lost it, as long as the person he loved came back to him.

A long time ago, it seemed like forever now, Feliciano had asked to be killed, rather than become someone who could forget those he loved, someone who was cursed to wander, confused and broken… Someone like Sadik. And he'd known, back when he made the promise, that there was no way he'd go through with it. And even now, seeing the obvious agony his precious Italian was in, he knew that he still couldn't- wouldn't do it. And he'd fight anyone who tried.

Suddenly, Feliciano's eyes flew open. Every blood vessel in his eye had burst, making his amber eyes look like islands floating in crimson waters. They were wild, terrified, unseeing. Scarlet gather at the corners of his eyes, boiling over, flowing from his ears, his mouth, and his nostrils.

Frantic, Ludwig tried to remember if any of this had happened to his brother. He called for Lovino, as the small frame beneath began to thrash and claw at the sheets, cracking and splitting his nails. Some of them, Ludwig noted with mounting horror, were beginning to fall out.

His chestnut brown hair, the hair with hints of red and gold that Ludwig loved so much, fell from his head in patches. Whenever Feliciano wasn't trying to rip his nails off, it seemed he was pulling his hair out. It was like he thought his body wouldn't hurt so much if he didn't have a body.

"_Dio!"_ Feliciano rasped._ "Uccidimi! Per favore!" _

Just as the door burst open, with the help that Ludwig had been begging for, the slight body beneath him rose from the bed, pulled from its center like some invisible string was tied around his torso. All at once, Feliciano's head jerked back, pulling Ludwig forward, and, with a sickening crack, snapping his spine in half.

* * *

Comforting arms tried to wrap themselves around him, arms he knew belonged to Antonio, but he savagely pushed them away. For a vampire, the sight and smell of blood was supposed to trigger an overwhelming urge to feed. Like getting a whiff of their favorite drug, their pupils would dilate while their inhibitions packed up for vacation. It could even make good sex great. Violent. Passionate. Untainted by doubts or insecurities.

But the sight of his brother bleeding profusely from what a cursory glance could have told him was _every orifice in his body_ did not stir up his appetite at all. It actually made him want to spit out the deer he'd had for lunch, followed by all the meals he'd had before it, for the past ten years.

With effort, he pushed the urge to be sick away and approached the bed, where Ludwig looked like he was about to have a meltdown. His hand was wedged between Feliciano's jaws, but his eyes were glued to the gruesome point the two pieces of his brother's spine had come to. They stretched the skin where they met, pressing against it, as if waiting for gravity to give them the chance to rack an already tortured soul with even more damage.

Honestly, only his little brother could be impaled by his own spine.

It was a tempting thought, trying to force the two pieces back into place, but it might also make things worse. They didn't even know for certain if Feliciano would wake up a vampire.

Sure, the convulsions had them all thinking that he would, but, as much pain as Lovino remembered, he didn't remember this. He'd never seen this. And, even if this were just a really weird and exceptionally painful transition, shouldn't his brother have begun to heal by now?

He placed a comforting hand on Ludwig's shoulder, doing his best to keep his own trembling to a minimum as he turned to Antonio and asked him to send someone to inform the Hunter's School about what had happened and request aid, both the medical and the hunting kind.

For his part, Antonio merely looked reluctant for a few seconds, his eyes lingering on Feliciano's tortured features before he nodded once and left. Lovino was grateful not to be questioned. Not when every second counted.

Antonio's broad shoulders had already brushed past the doorway when a new sound greeted Lovino's ears, a sound like the splitting of fabric.

Dread pooled in his gut, heavy. He felt Ludwig tense, felt him begin to shake, and looked down to see skin, stretched to its limits, rupture. The open wounds puckered, revealing the muscular tissue beneath the thin layer of fat.

It looked like hamburger meat.

Lovino allowed himself a moment to wonder if he thought that because he was a vampire or because he was well on way to entering a magical placed called DenialLand, where people bent in half, bled from their faces, and woke up early the next morning to make waffles.

Roughly, he shook himself.

Losing it now wouldn't help anyone, and it certainly wouldn't help Ludwig. With all the authority he could muster, he ordered the despondent German to grab a towel, warm water, the sewing kit, and bandages. When all he got in response was a shudder and a blank-eyed stare, he repeated the order, but, this time, he imbued it with some of the temper he was currently trying so hard to suppress.

That got the German moving.

Since there wasn't much else he could do, Lovino stuck his hand in his brother's mouth (because suicide's not an option, _cazzo_!) and used his other hand to grip his brother's mutilated fingers. If he had known, he'd have ordered Ludwig to strap his brother to the bed. Come to think of it, he should still strap his brother to the bed.

He shifted, torn between yelling for Ludwig to bring cloth, belts, and rope, and just letting his brother rest when he sensed that something was changing.

_There was no more skin for the rake to strip, no more blood to boil. Nothing was left for the fire to burn. Nothing was left for the wind to freeze. Heat still pressed against him, cold still pressed against him, but it was bearable. The two extremes saturated his bones until they melded within him and throughout it all, he never thought. No words. No pain._

_Veins crawled over him, climbing his legs and chest cavity like vines. Muscles grew thick and heavy over his arms, legs, and back. Panic began to flutter in his chest as his heart began to beat. The pain was coming back, like a half forgotten song or the twinge of a sore muscle. Fear followed panic, dread followed fear. And, when no more pain came, when it stayed background noise, something he could accept as part of himself instead of something that consumed him, relief came, followed by a name:_

_Feliciano._

The torn and exposed muscles thickened, bones lengthened, and the damaged skin began to knit itself back together. Out of the now empty nail beds, claws began to grow, long and wicked looking. Lovino figured that the same was probably happening to Feliciano's feet, so he ripped the shoes and socks off, accidentally tearing them apart as he did so.

And he was right. He could see the claws, as well as tufts of silver fur.

So… definitely not a vampire, then.

He actually had no idea if this were a good thing or a bad thing.

A gurgling sound brought him back to the head of bed. White objects, covered in blood so black it looked like motor oil, were boiling at the entrance to his brother's esophagus. He tilted Feliciano's head to the side so he could vomit the… teeth… out.

Once again, Lovino did his best not to hurl.

New, sharper, stronger looking teeth replaced the old ones. Like vampires, the canines, Lovino noted with interest, had hollow points. Long strands of silver hair pushed any lingering strands of brown hair from its roots, replacing that too, and, with some sadness, Lovino realized that when this transformation was done, most of what made them look like brothers would be gone.

More silver fur was pushing through the skin from the elbows when Ludwig, Antonio, Alfred, and Arthur returned.

"Took you long enough" was all Lovino greeted them with, his voice subdued, they noted. Like he was in a church. Or a graveyard.

Arthur, who didn't get the hint, started in raised tones as Ludwig strode into the room with the medical supplies, "What the bloody hell is-" Alfred cut him off with a hard look, for which Lovino was grateful.

With a final shudder, Feliciano's spine shifted, falling back into place.

* * *

The transformation into… whatever he had turned into, took all of Feliciano's fat from him. In it's place, was a much more muscular and lithe looking frame. Not to mention, taller. His cheeks had lost their fullness, his face held some lines and shadows that hadn't been there before, but, and there was no denying this, he was still their Feliciano.

And once he woke up, they could track down the rotten, tomato hating, godforsaken, _bastardo_ spawn of Satan that dared harm his brother, and force him to tell them what he'd done and how to reverse it.

The idea was a good one, but it was one that counted on things working out. Therefore, it was a solid idea with a foundation made of dry sand.

When Feliciano woke up, the first thing he did was scream for the vampires to leave. And that was the worst part. He didn't ask them to leave by name.

He just called them vampires.


	3. Dogs of War

**A/N: Thank you for the wonderful review, follows, and favorites! **

**Now, *sips tea dramatically* shall we begin?**

_Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war_

_- Macbeth_

A fireplace crackled and popped in the Headmaster's office as the last rays of the sun began to fade from the gaps between his window shutters. It was 8:00 now. Always around this time, he brought out his bills and newspapers, so he could properly pay one and comb through the other. Ever since Ivan's fall, the vampire attacks had lessened. Or, at least, Roma dearly hoped they had. No longer could an attack be found by listening for the screams which inevitably accompanied a halfblood attack, but there were disappearances. Disappearances and bodies found, pale as bone. Sometimes they were found in their houses by their family members or friends. Usually, vampires attacked those who were alone, isolated, or lost. Attacking in public was practically unheard of. And yet, no one heard or saw these attacks happen. They even swore that they had been talking to the victim not ten minutes prior.

Something in his gut told him that these weren't average run-of-the-mill stray vampire attacks, so he'd sent Peter and Matthew to go investigate. It seemed he'd passed over Matthew quite a few times when it'd come to missions, though he'd never meant to, so the boy was really quite relieved to be chosen for the investigation. As for Peter, it would be his first since he graduated. The element he'd revealed at the cemetery had been water, much to the surprise of absolutely no one. If there was ever a hunter meant for the element, it was the boy who had to be bodily dragged out of the pool. He'd once seen Peter's classmates take bets on just how much water they needed to gather to get him to strip and jump in. And Roma boasted, whenever he was given the chance, that he'd bet on the child's inflatable pool, which hadn't even been fully filled before Peter had peeled off his hunter's gear and jumped in.

He chuckled at the memory, a brief respite from solemnity before another disappearance caught his eye, this one closer to the academy. The victim was a male, in his early 20's, and best known for his research into Wolfram's work. Apparently, he believed that mixing a vampire and a werewolve's blood could result in a perfect hunter. 'Imagine it,' he would say, 'a hunter who never tired, never aged, and barely needed to eat.'

Something like that wouldn't be a hunter. It would be just another monster.

He shook his head, catching his old prejudices creeping back into his thoughts. Just because something was different- dangerous- did not automatically make it a monster. How many innocent vampires had died because it had taken him decades to realize something so simple? How many of the vampires who'd begged him for mercy had deserved it? How many of his hunters had he almost turned into the very monsters they were supposed to be fighting with nothing but his own teachings to blame?

And even after realizing the error of his ways, the damage he had caused, he still occasionally caught himself longing for the simplicity he'd once known.

It was during those times that he hated himself more than he'd ever hated a vampire.

Brow furrowed, he stared morosely into the fire, imagining the flickering flames into victims he'd long thought forgotten. Names escaped him most of the time, but he remembered enough. Tear streaked faces, screams, begging, pleading, crying, hoping, praying for him to give them a chance. Just one. But how could he? How could he when they were obviously faking it? How could when they where the reason his grandsons had been raised by their grandfather and not their parents?

No. That train was one he'd ridden before and it never led to anywhere he wanted to go. Things had changed. They were different. The academy no longer allowed the collection of vampire fangs for bracelets, necklaces, or earrings, and it no longer allowed Kill Counting, though he was sure the latter still occurred. Maybe the former, too.

It took time for things to change completely, to turn one's back on decades of tradition, but he was sure discouraging those activities may prevent his hunters from making the same mistakes he had.

However, the wall still showed the faces of fallen hunters. That would never change.

A soft knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts, allowing him to realize that his eyes stung from staring into the fire.

"Come in," he called. And, without making a sound, Katyusha, one of his favorite history teachers and Vlad's partner in crime, stepped into his office with a freshly brewed cappuccino.

"My God, you're an angel" He breathed, hastily making room for the beverage as she approached his desk.

In ten years, she hadn't aged a day. She still appeared to be a girl in her late teens. Though, as she was a vampire, this was to be expected. Modest clothing such as overalls were also still her modus operandi, but she wore her hair long these days, and she was sometimes known to wear gothic dresses with a scarf wrapped snuggly around her neck. When asked about it, she would smile sadly and reply, "They weren't always that way."

He accepted the drink gratefully, and so was gulping greedily when she said with a slight frown on her youthful face, "I felt your thoughts grow dark while I was outside."

With a sigh, he put finishing the drink on hold and said, "You see, this is why I don't like you grading your papers outside my office."

She smiled. "I grade my papers outside my office so I can feel when your thoughts grow dark. That way, I know when it is time to bring you your cappuccino." Upon hearing that, Roma wondered if he should let his thoughts darken two- maybe three- times a day.

A teasing punch informed him that Katyusha had felt that thought and disapproved of it. He was just relieved that it stung only a little, since her first 'teasing' punches, back when she was new, had left bruises. He'd had to make up fights just so he didn't have to tell any of his recruits that he'd been bruised by a girl. Especially one as sweet as her.

"So, how is Vlad holding up?" He asked, hoping to change the subject without being too obvious about it.

She gave him a knowing look- being an empathy is _cheating_- but she allowed it. "He's doing well. Getting used to the changes."

Vlad had asked her to change him years ago. She'd only just agreed, after she checked with the Headmaster to make sure he was okay with having yet another vampire in Vampire Hunter Academy.

He was.

Very much so.

"Changes" Roma questioned innocently. "Like increased stamina?" The blush that colored her cheeks was priceless.

He laughed as she tried to stutter out a response, but this joy, too, was cut short, when two of his best hunters, Francis and Gilbert, came bursting into the room with news of his grandson.

* * *

Ice.

It was like someone had carved a thousand thumb tacks out of ice and shoved them in his nostrils.

His teeth ached with the urge to rip and tear and his skin itched. It felt brand new and raw, like the healing skin of a burn wound. He had a desire to scratch it all off and let it grow back again, but he kept his hands still.

The probability of scratching all his skin off turning out to be a painful experience was not a small one, and he'd had enough of that for one day.

Slowly, some recollection came back to him. There was the memory of having something shoved down his throat, but nothing really after that. And it was so hard to think with that ice smell in his nose.

A word popped into his head.

_Vampires_.

Was that what the smell was? His body seemed to think so, as simply thinking the word seemed to send a spasm through it and before he could even wonder if being awake was really what he wanted, his eyes flew open.

He sat up on autopilot, really. His eyes, glassy and unfocused, roamed the room, trying to pinpoint the smell that was causing him pain. Even drowsy and lethargic, he was able to piece the smell and the two creatures who'd entered the room together, and between that information and the word that had made itself known to him like a long lost friend, he was able to shout through parched lips, "Leave!"

One of the indistinct figures seemed to take a step back, then it started to reach towards him, its words slow and soothing like it was trying to calm an injured dog. But that wouldn't do. The smell was stronger when it got nearer and there was a pain in his stomach that strengthened, too. A pain that was too familiar to be-

_Hunger._

Right. He was hungry. And eating the vampires would make the smell go away-

Panicked, Feliciano began to come back to himself. He reared back, baring his teeth and growling deep within his chest. This wasn't just about the smell anymore. This was about some part of him recognizing that another part wanted to eat his brother and rebelling against it.

Lovino didn't step back, but Antonio dragged him from the room and Ludwig shut the door. There were two other humans, but at a word from Ludwig, they also left the room.

The smell abated. His stomach calmed to a more manageable level of hunger and he was finally able to take in his surroundings as well as what had happened to him.

That was good.

He'd also hurt his brother in a way he couldn't even imagine.

That was bad.

* * *

Ludwig watched with a healthy mix of concern and weariness as Feliciano's mind seemed to come closer to the surface. He knew the sway fear and animal instinct could have on him around the time of a full moon, so he could recognize it in another. The man yelling at the vampires to leave had been acting on instinct alone.

However, with that said, the full moon wasn't until tomorrow...

He was so pent up with anxious tension that a jolt from Feliciano nearly sent his head through the ceiling.

The blood stains that had looked almost like wine stains on the torn sheets and pillow had caught Feli's eye, fascinating him for some time, but then he'd caught sight of something moving in his peripheral vision. It'd flopped when he'd moved forward to inspect it, which had led to him jumping, which had led to more flopping. It was such an odd spectacle that, if things had been different, Ludwig may have laughed at the sight.

It wasn't until Feliciano stood up, his torn jeans drooping around his waist, that they both realized what the thing really was: a tail.

It was long, damp, and silver with spattering of black, just like the rest of the fur on his body. They stared at it in disbelief, only for it to suddenly go limp.

Feliciano barked out a laugh. "A tail!" It was like he'd tried to pack the total absurdity of the day he'd been having into two words, and once he'd done that, the energy seemed to leave him. He wilted, giving Ludwig barely any time to catch him. But he used every bit of extra strength and speed his own curse gave him and cradled Feliciano before he could hit the floor. Even before his knees had buckled, Ludwig had already been moving to the side of the man he'd loved. Still loved. Would always love.

For a few breaths, they stayed still and comfortable on the floor. Feliciano's body still felt hot with fever, his heat raced against Ludwig's chest, veins pulsing, and lungs heaving, struggling to power a body they weren't used to. It was horrible to see him like this.

If their positions were reversed, and they had been, Feliciano would say something calming, something comforting to make him feel better about the situation.

"Don't worry. We'll find a cure. We'll turn you back."

The body lying against him stiffened, sending all the alarms in his head into a panic. Two amber eyes, glowing like dying embers, paralyzed him as Feliciano started to sit up. "Wait," Ludwig said. "You're still hurt. Let's get you washed up and then we can find you some clothes that fit you. Lovino and Antonio can-"

"No!" Ludwig watched in disbelief as Feliciano pulled his lips back from his teeth and growled, his brow furrowed and hair bristling. "You can't let them in the same room as me!"

As though startled by his own ferocity, the tension in his body seemed to seep out of it and he let himself sink onto the bed, where he pulled his knees in and cradled his head in his hands.

Outside, the ground swallowed up the sun.

Keeping his movement slow and deliberate, Ludwig sat next to him. "Why not?"

Feliciano didn't say anything for a while, he rubbed his hands up and down his arms, like he might fly to pieces if he didn't remind himself where he started and where he stopped, but that as okay. Being patient was his strong suit. He could wait until the stars dimmed and never falter.

Finally, Feliciano, still staring into his lap, said, "Ludwig, do I still look like me?"

He answered honestly. "No, but-"

He was cut off before he could finish. "I don't feel like me." Registering the deeper tenor of his voice for the first time, he threw his hands up and exclaimed, "I don't even sound like me! How do I know that I still think like me?"

"No one is exactly the same as they were five minutes ago."

"Yes, but not everyone sprouts fur and a tail."

Ludwig pouted, which consisted of a slight downward twitch at the corners of his mouth, "I sprout fur and a tail."

"Once a month!" Feliciano wagged his tail for emphasize. "I have a tail, Ludwig!"

There are often issues that can go misunderstood if one tries to go about them indirectly. Feliciano had wanted to establish a difference between his state and his partner's so he could tackle the unfamiliar issue of wanting to eat people, and his fear that his instincts would always influence him as strongly as they were in that second. There was even a part of him that wanted to establish some sort of dominance, as it didn't recognize Ludwig as a mate but as a wolf intruding on his territory. He even worried that Ludwig's wolf didn't consider him its mate, anymore.

None of that came out, however, before Ludwig decided that he should try to emulate Lovino.

Taking a heavily traumatized and confused Feliciano by the shoulders, Ludwig cleared his throat. "That's enough whining. You feeling sorry for yourself because you look a little different isn't going to fix anything. We need to get the others back in here so were can work together. So…" He faltered when he saw the hard smile on the other's lips, finishing the sentence as though it were a question. "Shape up?"

"Shape up." Feliciano repeated, then he chuckled to himself and stood up from the bed so quickly he nearly knocked Ludwig off balance. With careful movements, he pulled the shredded remnants of his white shirt from his body, glancing in some satisfaction at the blood rising in Ludwig's face.

"What are you doing?" Ludwig choked out.

"Taking my shirt off."

"Why?"

"Have you seen my abs?" Six sculpted abs with the pale perfection of carved marble were promptly brought to Ludwig's attention. It was rather difficult to look away. "With abs like this, it'd be a crime _not_ to take off my shirt."

Talking like that almost felt normal. But there was an edge present that hadn't been there before.

A knock on the door drew both of their attention. Further loud banging drew a synchronized sigh. Obviously, Lovino felt he'd waited long enough.

Before anything else could be said, Feliciano quickly asked, voice hushed, "If you wanted to eat my brother, what would you expect me to do?"

Just when Ludwig thought nothing was going to surprise him anymore, he was asked something like that. Still, he pondered the question as Feliciano waited, his gaze steady.

"Put me out of misery," he said slowly, letting the words fall into the silence between them like pebbles sinking into the depths of a river. And after he finished speaking, he drunk in the unexpected sight of the person he loved most in the world, the person who held his heart, looking as though he had stricken him.

The expression transformed in a blink, replaced by a glacial coldness.

He turned his back, heading towards the door with his arms hanging stiff at his sides and his posture stiff. As he began to turn the handle, Ludwig searched for something- anything to say that would make things right again. But there weren't words that would make things right again. Not everything can be overcome by good intentions and feelings in five minutes. After all, it'd taken Ludwig nearly a decade to come to terms with his own curse.

His voice, usually so sure, struggled, all the words he should have said piling up behind his tonsils like a traffic jam, but then Feliciano opened the door and the moment dissipated, spreading from his outstretched fingertips and falling in with all those other lost chances that come and pass with those who choose to live.

* * *

Like the very embodiment of Wrath, Lovino was practically shaking with fury as he stared up at Feliciano, who had grown to be around 6' 2''. Feliciano himself had the oddest feeling that he had somehow upset a particularly ferocious Chihuahua. When Lovino began yelling at him, the feeling intensified, until he wasn't certain whether he should be offended, ashamed, or laughing.

Antonio was rubbing his cheek ruefully in the background, so he guessed that it had been left up to him to keep his brother from bursting into the room as long as he had.

"How could you just kick us out?!" Lovino shouted, his face positively crimson. "I was worried about you! And the first thing you do is throw all our concern back in our faces. Kicking me out like I'm some toddler." At this, he stamped his foot. Because stamping his foot was not at all toddler behavior. Clearly.

A small, happy exhalation escaped Feli's lips. He was happy to see his brother. Elated, in fact. And as long as he breathed through his nose, it seemed his teeth didn't ache and his saliva production didn't kick into overdrive. It was still torture. But he could endure it.

"What are you smirking at?" Lovino scowled. "You think just because you're tall and muscular now you can laugh at me?"

_Before Feliciano could register anything more than surprise, there was a sharp pain in his mouth..._

And, as quickly as the elation at seeing his brother had come, it passed. He'd never wanted to change. He'd never wanted this body. It'd been forced on him, because he'd been too weak to defend himself. He'd allowed himself to be violated and his new body was only ever going to be a constant reminder of the pain and helplessness he'd felt.

_...followed by a pleasure so bone deep his body sang with it, melted in it. _

The shame he still felt.

Antonio noticed the change in Feliciano's demeanor before Lovino did, and covered his mouth with both hands, holding on even after Lovi started to bite.

Feeling sick and strange in his new body, Feliciano stumbled past them, feeling their eyes on him as he tried to make it to the bathroom. At his feet, something soft and warm bumped against his heels. With one hand on the wall, he allowed the presence at his feet to guide him to the bathroom. Someone called his name, but he didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to deal with this now.

He made it through the door just as the bile began to rise in his gorge. No one followed him in, but the comforting warmth stayed. The blood in him, the blood that had been forced into him, he desperately wanted to be rid of it, but it was everywhere, flowing like pollution and filth through his veins.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move in the mirror, but he ignored it. He didn't want to look at it.

Instead, he pitched forward, falling hard on his knees, and did his best to purge himself of a taint that seemed to saturate every pore on his body.

And as he tried, the wolf that had guided him continued to watch over him, and stayed by his side.

* * *

A/N: Okay, so this took a while mostly because I didn't really have a lot of time to write, but also because I kept rethinking in what direction the story would go. Roma wasn't even supposed to come up. Feli was just going to wake up, be feral, hunt down the vampire, and 'The End'. It's almost sad how unrealistic that plan was. For one, I can't change who Feliciano is. At his heart, he's really very gentle, but he can be indirect and passive aggressive if he wants to be. Right now, he's just gone through a very traumatic experience, he can't control his instincts, and everyone around him seems to be very consistently saying the wrong thing. What's the right thing to say? Well, there really isn't one, but I think 'I don't know what you're going through, but I'm here for you' would be good. Feli is not interested in going out into the streets and getting revenge. If he were like that, he'd be a hunter. What interests him is the thought of no longer feeling like his identity and confidence have been stolen from him.

Please R&R

I really enjoy reading your comments and I'm always open for questions:)


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